


The future is open wide

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domesticity, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Love Confessions, Multi, Polyamory, Triad - Freeform, so much love, this is an angst free zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: It's perfectly normal for a married couple to have a live-in friend in their apartment, right?For said friend to use the husband's old clothes to sleep in, right?For said friend to have cuddle dates with the wife, right?Nothing out of the ordinary is going on between Daisy and Fitzsimmons, right?Well, Mack begs to differ.





	The future is open wide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PiperHG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiperHG/gifts).



> A birthday gift for my amazing @daisysdanvers. Love you dear. 
> 
> **
> 
> This fic happens in the "future" of the show, but assumes that everything from... 4x14 on didn't happen.

**_If we only got this life and this adventure,_ **

**_oh, then I wanna share it with you._ **

* * *

Contrary to what anyone might think, Daisy doesn’t feel awkward for living with Fitz and Simmons; after all, they are her family, and they invited her, and she is learning to trust people when they say that they want her around. But it is true that they are still in the honeymoon phase (Daisy wonders if they will ever stop behaving like their own special mix of newlyweds and old married couple), and Daisy feels sometimes like they need their space. She does her best to give it to them, staying on base every once in awhile, going out with Mack and Elena for drinks, going home with the odd person that picks her up in a bar.

All in all, it’s a good life, much nicer and much homier than she ever imagined, and she does not complain: it feels good to have someone to come home to; at the end of the day, she always comes home back to them, and they always seem happy to see her, and they work like a well-oiled machine, and Daisy wonders when did it happen that a Daisy-shaped space formed around or maybe alongside the unit that Fitzsimmons has always been.

She opens up to Fitz about it one morning, that as much as she loves living with them, sometimes she is afraid she might be intruding on their life as a couple, and that they don’t call her out on it just because they are nice, and Fitz looks at her with squinted eyes. It’s a strange conversation to have like this, on their pajamas having breakfast at Jemma’s long-yearned breakfast nook, their sock-clad feet touching under the table, but it is a conversation about them, after all, and they can have it while being... well, them.

“Daisy, Jemma might be nice, but I am not. I’m pretty sure she shares the sentiment, but just in case, I will vouch only for myself: you are not intruding if I _ want  _ you around. And of course I do, you are my best friend.”

Maybe it’s silly, but it’s so comforting to hear him say it that she gets choked up all the same. She replies with a joke, because that’s what how they work. 

“Better be careful, you ended up marrying the last person you called your best friend.”

He lowers his eyes and smiles, but he doesn’t look embarrassed, and Daisy retreats suddenly. Does she _ want  _ him to feel embarrassed?

“Yeah, better be careful.”

He looks her in the eyes while he says it, and this entire exchange should be a joke, but there is an intensity in his eyes that takes her breath away, and somehow it’s anything but a joke. 

* * *

It’s Mack the one who calls her out on it, because for her everything has become so much like a second skin that she barely second-guesses it.

Mack has dropped by some tools Fitz left at the lab and that he needs to work overnight, and Daisy is just opening the door to let him leave when he stops on his tracks and looks down at her, his head slightly tilted to the side. 

“Isn’t that t-shirt Fitz’s?”

Daisy looks down at the soft, well-worn MIT t-shirt she uses to sleep and shrugs.

“Yes?”

Mack is very non-judgemental, but he is not the kind of person who takes shit, either.

“Shouldn’t that be _ Simmons’s  _ pajamas?”

The spotlight makes her feel uncomfortable, and deflection is the thing she knows how to do best.

“Nah, Simmons has way too much style for this. She owns a satin set, and they _ match,” _ she says it like it’s outrageous, and tugs on her t-shirt. “And you know, old t-shirts demand to be used as pajamas.”

Mack chuckles and lets her go with a soft pat on her head. He leaves, but Daisy stays, and so does the new weird feeling at the opening of her stomach. 

Mack leaves, but Daisy stays and tugs on the neckline of the t-shirt again and thinks. 

* * *

It’s like having been struck by lightning, or better yet, like putting on glasses for the first time and discovering that the world has colors and definition when you used to think everything was just a dull shapeless blur.

It is not that it’s weird that she _ lives  _ with them: the _ way  _ she lives with them is what makes it weird. 

It’s not that things have changed between them, quite the opposite: things eveolved so naturally and so smoothly that Daisy didn’t even notice they were happening during the last almost-decade she’s known them, and now that Mack has tapped her shoulder to point to something unusual, Daisy can’t stop noticing how actually… _ unusual  _ everything between the three of them is.

Like, one thing is for her to almost live with a couple of married friends that she appreciates so very much and that appreciate her back, and another thing completely is… this.

The unusual thing is not her scheduled girls’ nights with Jemma, the unusual thing is that Jemma sits in between Daisy’s legs on the couch, her back snug against Daisy’s chest, and that Daisy can’t remember the plot of any movie they have watched, she is so focused on the perfume of Jemma’s hair. 

The unusual thing is not that on Wednesdays, when May doesn’t make her wake up insanely early, she sleeps in and Fitz makes her breakfast while Jemma goes for her daily run; the unusual thing is that they, two very chatty people, share the silence of the morning like a cherished gift, taking back and forth the plate with toast and the orange juice, and when their hands graze on the middle, Daisy feels her entire body tremble. 

The unusual thing is that when Jemma comes back from her shower, smelling like flowery shampoo and sunshine, she drapes herself over Fitz’s lap and Daisy fixes her tea just the way Jemma likes and she watches them being casually affectionate with each other, and there is a flower blossoming in her chest and a longing deep on her bones.

Once she is willing to notice things, she can not _ stop  _ noticing things; they go out together, they know each other’s schedules, they understand each other’s moods and times and necessities, and no, things doesn’t always work seamlessly, but they are oh, so natural, that she can not be blamed for not noticing it sooner.  

The revelation turns her emotions into a rollercoaster too. At first she is delighted by the discovery; she has known that they are her family for a long while now, but she hasn’t processed it on a conscious level yet; people who know her, people who chose her and keep on choosing her. Right after that, she feels overwhelmed. It’s true that they had been doing this for quite a while, but now that she _ knows, _ it feels like she could mess everything up at every opportuni ty 

And when she panics, she goes to the best friend anyone could ask for, and also the most level-headed person she knows. 

* * *

She doesn’t even bother trying to make it look casual: there is nothing casual about asking one’s friend for romantic advice about a married couple of mutual friends. Besides, her relationship with Mack has always worked better when they are upfront and honest with each other. She drops by his apartment with a six-pack and a big-ass bag of potato chips, and Elena takes a look at her face and decides that is a wonderful night for a run, isn’t it? Daisy feels equal parts ashamed and grateful when she squeezes her arm right before leaving.  

Mack takes a look at the goods in her hands and raises his eyebrows, “That bad, um?”

Daisy plays it defensive, not so much out of actual defensiveness, but because she can not believe that she is being that obvious.

“What, can’t a girl long for a relaxing night of video games with a pal?”

Mack snorts, and Daisy feels almost like throwing a tantrum.

“Sure she can, but that’s not why are you are here, and you know it.” He opens one beer for each of them and slides one across the counter towards her. “Now spill it.”

Daisy takes a long chug of beer, hanging on for dear life to the liquid courage.

“I have been thinking about what you said the other day.”

“What did I say?”

“You know, _ the thing.” _ She makes a vague gesture with her hand, frustrated at Mack’s lack of understanding. It has been such an eye-opening kind of revelation for her that it’s difficult to process that for other people it might not be obvious what she is talking about. Mack shakes his head, and Daisy scoffs. “About how weird it was that I was using Fitz’s clothes?”

That’s the moment Mack starts laughing. Daisy looks at him, puzzled, while he doubles over himself in laughter.      

“That is what set you off? If I knew it was all it’d take, I would have said it months ago!”

That makes her shoulders relax, if only a tiny bit. Mack is open-minded and kind-hearted, but this is a delicate matter and Daisy wants to be sure about the ground she is walking on. She sits on a stool and finishes off her beer. Mack sits near her, his long legs hanging funnily from the stool, and she focuses on them to not look at his face before launching the next question.

“Do you think that is weird?”

“What do I think is weird?”

“What I do with Fitz and Simmons.”

“I don’t know, _ what  _ are you doing?” His tone is suggestive, and that prompts Daisy to raise her eyes, looking incredulously at his lopsided smile. 

“Nothing that you don’t know about, you asshole! I’m just talking about the, the closeness, and the domesticity and sharing everything and me intruding on their life as a couple.” 

“Calm down, Tremors, I was just teasing you.” He squeezes her hand gently and Daisy takes in a shaking breath, trying to regain control of her body. She hasn’t noticed until now how strong her feelings on this matter are, how high the stakes actually are. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Daisy, what is important is what you think. Do _ you  _ think it is weird?”

She thinks back to them, to Fitz swaying his way through the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand, and to Jemma falling asleep on her lap, soft hair tickling the sensitive skin of her legs, and the memory of them is enough to provoke a warm explosion inside her chest. She knows how she feels about them, in more or less words. The big question is what they think, what they feel, how do they see her.   

“I… No. I guess not. But I don’t want to be out of line, mess with the amazing thing they have.”

Mack nods, pensively, “Okay, fair enough. But do you want to change your relationship with them?”

“No.” Her reply is immediate, terminal, oh, so very sure, and Mack smiles. 

“And don’t you think that they are old enough and smart enough to take their own decisions? If they wanted things to change, they would let you know.”

She squeezes her empty bottle; she knows this, intellectually, but it’s not that easy to accept it emotionally.   

“I guess.”

“If this works for you and it works for them, you shouldn’t give a crap about if it’s weird or not. We don’t do normal, Daisy. You know me, I’m a practical guy; why would you change something that works?”

The real answer is: _ because I want more. Because I love what we have, but I’m pretty sure I also love them, and I want to be able to act on those feelings and let them blossom.  _ That’s the actual heart of the matter, isn’t it? She didn’t come here to have Mack validate the relationship they already share as consenting adults. She came to Mack for advice on how to move this relationship with her friends forward. Her _ very happily married _ friends. And she came to Mack, specifically, because she trusts him, and maybe what she is about to say is controversial, but no one else has ever been a fraction as honest and upfront with her as he has. And maybe honesty is exactly what she needs right now. 

“And what happens if I want more?”

“More?” He looks at her, slightly surprised, and Daisy bites her lip. “Do you mean you want to-?”

“I mean that I think I’m in love with them,” she cuts him off. “And that they might not be that far behind, since, you know, we fell together into this effortless mess of intimacy that surprised you but is natural and precious to us.” 

There it is. Everything is out in the open now, and she can only wait for his verdict. She watches carefully his face while he processes, but he doesn’t give her any outward signal of what he is thinking. Finally, he sights and shrugs.

“What do you want me to say, Tremors? I won’t lie, the idea is a little strange for me, but you are not me. If you think this is worth it, go for it.”

She wringles her fingers. Mack is right, of course; Mack is usually right: this is a decision that only herself can take, and it involves a risk that no one else can decide if it’s worth it or not.     

“But what if I, what if everything, if everything I believe they feel is in my head and nothing else?”

That is the fear that makes her freeze; how is she supposed to live with herself if she misread everything and she mucks up their friendship, one of the best things she has ever had, and even one of the best she can imagine?  

Mack smirks at hearing that, and Daisy is not sure how that makes her feel. 

“Believe me Tremors, whatever this thing is, it's not just in your head. And besides, even if it were just in your head, why would that mean that it's not real?”

She gapes, and maybe he is not giving her many guarantees for what is to come, but he sure is giving her a distraction. 

“I can’t believe you are quoting Harry Potter at me, Alphonso Mackenzie!”

“Guilty as charged.”

* * *

She’s gotta be honest: she is not the best at being patient, a mix of anxiety and eagerness usually gets the best of her and makes her act impulsively. For this particular… predicament, she didn’t set a particular timeline, but she knew it would have to be soon. 

She just didn’t expect soon to be quite _ this soon. _

She opens the door, still thinking about her conversation with Mack, distracted enough that she doesn’t notice at first that both Fitz and Simmons are in the living room.

And apparently they don’t notice her either, because Daisy is taken out of her reverie by a soft moan that comes undeniably from Fitz’s mouth and that is promptly silenced by a kiss from Jemma, who is straddling his lap on the couch.

She would be lying if she said that she has never walked on them before; that’s just a minor inconvenience from moving in with a couple that had had the hots for each other ever since forever and only had been able to act on it for a short while. But every other time, it has been because she had opened the door to their bedroom without knocking first, or because she assumed the bathroom with the lights off meant it was empty, or- one memorable night- because she had told them that she would be staying over at Mack and Elena’s, and she changed her mind at the last moment, and let’s just say that they took the meaning of kneading in the kitchen quite literally. 

But this time is different, because they are making out in plain sight, when they knew she was on her way home. It’s possible that they didn’t hear the sound of the door opening, but Daisy is not buying it; it feels a little sloopy on their part, when they are usually so careful, and they have gone completely out of their way to make her feel included and not awkward and like she is not a third wheel at all.

Maybe she is reading too much into this, but also maybe, just _ maybe, _ there is an ulterior reason behind why this is happening now. She doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but _ maybe  _ she is not the only one that has decided that they had had enough.

“Hey, guys.” She pretends she hasn’t noticed their wrecked state, and she plops down on the couch right next to them. Simmons slides down Fitz’s lap and ends up pressed tightly between them.

“Hey, Daisy.”

Simmons sounds breathless and Fitz is still trying to get his breathing under control, and Daisy looks at them and can vividly imagine them more disvehealeved and with less clothes n, and something thrums inside her chest and in her throat. They had always been attractive, but someplace along the road Simmons settled on her curves and her “classy but fierce” attitude, and Fitz went sharp where sharp looks better and soft where soft looks better; and Daisy feels this discovery like an epiphany.

These are her friends, and she loves them and probably is in love with them too, and they are attractive as all hell, and she can not breath in between gaping at Jemma’s skewed neckline and at Fitz’ very obvious erection.

“Glad you are back.” Jemma leans over her to kiss her cheek, and Daisy can not longer keep her heartbeat under control, the warm and the smell of Jemma’s skin flooding completely her senses. Jemma kisses just the corner of her mouth, and Daisy's brain short circuits. “We were hoping for a quiet night in with you.”

Fitz’s sock-clad foot strokes down her ankle while Jemma speaks, and Daisy snaps, “Dudes, this is getting a little ridiculous: you are married to each other, you are not married to me.”

It's a plea and and an invitation and a challenge, all in one. Her hands are shaking, she is so hopeful for a positive response that confirms all her suspicions and also fulfills all her desires.

Jemma and Fitz exchange one of their usual glances that speaks volumes without saying a single word, and Daisy bites her lip so hard that she is on the verge of drawing blood. Finally, Jemma gives him a miniscule nod, and Fitz says, “Admit it, Daisy, we are kind of all a little married to each other.”

That’s the last straw, she can not pretend anymore, not when they are obviously aware and more or less okay with it. She can only wish they will be okay too with what she is going to ask. 

“Fitz.” Her voice is shaking, and she swallows slowly, moving her body into a less tense position. “I request formal permission to kiss your wife.”

There is a general sharply intake of breath at her words, and she looks at Jemma intently, waiting for an answer. She decided to go for Jemma first, because she is sitting closer and because the memory of her lips is still burning on the corner of Daisy’s mouth. 

“Ask her, not me.” Fitz’s voice comes like from underwater, barely able to ring through the hazines on Daisy’s ears. He is right, of course he is right, but Daisy was trying to be respectful, not to pretend that she is his property, but to not disrespect their love and their standing, almost lifelong decision of choosing each other. 

She turns fully towards Jemma then, and she doesn’t get two words out that Jemma is kissing her. She has imagined this moment- sporadically since Mack’s comment last week, continuously today, and overwhelmingly since she crossed the threshold of the apartment-, but it is still an experience full of emotivity and unexpected sensations: she hadn’t imagined how cold Jemma’s hands would feel on her face, the fullness of her lips, the softness of Jemma’s skin under her own hands, the way this kiss feels like drinking down a glass full of sunshine. She also hadn’t counted on how thrilling and fulfilling it would be to hear Fitz’s sharp intake of breath, and to have his hand clenching tight her thigh.

During her life, Daisy has had kisses that fell everywhere on the spectrum, from utterly forgettable to downright mind blowing, and the one she is sharing with Jemma definitely is inching closer to the later, not only because the kiss is _ good, _ but also because it’s with  _ Jemma, _ and Daisy has loved her- in different ways, sure, but love nonetheless- for eight years now. But another characteristic that puts this kiss apart from the rest of great kisses she has had before in her life, is that, usually, they made her forget about the world surrounding her; the skin of the person kissing her managed to be the limit of her universe during a handful of minutes. This one, while still making her want to pour her entire soul through her lips, is heightening her senses, everything around her feels more alive, more colourful, more intense; she can not forget that this wouldn’t be the same without Fitz around.

Jemma sighes against her lips and Daisy tangles her fingers on her hair, pressing her closer. That’s the only encouragement Jemma needs to practically jump on her lap, and Daisy has always known that she is tiny, her weight coming mostly from brain and determination, but right now she is painfully aware of her physical presence, the grace of her breasts against her, the silkiness of her hair, her hands of long, experienced fingers playing at the nape of her neck.

Daisy breaks the kiss. This is amazing, but things are escalating quickly, and they need to talk clearly about things before they let themselves get carried away. She pants, trying to get the beating of her heart under control, and Jemma- still on her lap, flushed deep and hair messy- is not making things any easier. When she is finally able to break the spell of her almond eyes, Daisy looks around and sees Fitz on the corner of the couch. He doesn’t look mad or angry, but he is not smiling either. 

“Do you, um, would you, um.” He licks his lips and averts his eyes, looking a little embarrassed. “Would you prefer that I leave the two of you alone?”

It takes her a moment to catch up with what he means; after all, she does not live inside his mind, and the haziness that comes from Jemma’s contact is not making things any easier to process. Once she understands, she has to hold back her laughter; just because the idea is ridiculous to her doesn’t mean that he won’t feel hurt and like she is mocking his feelings, and nothing can be farther away from her intentions.  

“Fitz. Come here.” Jemma squeezes her leg, Fitz looks at his wife with big questioning eyes, and Jemma smiles encouragingly at him. Fitz scoots a couple inches closer to them, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body, but without actually touching her. 

She was thinking of making a question like the one she did for Jemma, but once she has him so close, all trembling hands and the bluest eyes, she can only blurt out, “Can I kiss you?”

Daisy sends a glance Jemma’s way, just to make sure that they are all in the same page, and Jemma nods slightly. After that, Daisy turns her undivided attention to Fitz, feeling so much better for the comfort of Jemma’s hand on her thigh. She waits for his reply, watching the tide of emotions going through his face, and she wonders if he really thought this thing existed only between her and Jemma, and that he wasn’t an essential part of this. His lips form a timid smile, and Daisy’s heart quickens at the sight. This is exactly what she treasures and cherish, this soft intimacy, and this is what she was hoping for.   

“Aren’t you going to ask for Jemma’s permission, though?”

He is stalling, but because he is nervous, not because he doesn’t want to, and Daisy humours him.        

“Jemma, I request formal permission to kiss your husband.”

Jemma taps her lips with the pad of a finger, in a gesture that is very much a Fitz’s thing, and Daisy feels her chest clenching, she loves them both so much. 

“We are not going to be doing all that roundtable of formalities every time around, are we?

Maybe we should systematize someth-”

“Oh my god,” Daisy groans, effectively drowning the sound of Jemma’s voice, but winks at her so Jemma knows that she is joking, and squeezes Fitz’s hands between hers. “Fitz, please kiss me so she can shut up.”

He is trembling still, but his eyes are hopeful, and he finally leans over and kisses her, and Daisy lets herself melt against him. The contrast is exhilarating, the roughness of his stubble against the sharp edges of his jaw, where Jemma is all soft skin and lovely curves. They do not kiss the same, the same way they are not the same person, not matter how much people insists on the contrary, but there are  certain techniques and certain moves that one of them definitely copied from the other or that they developed in sinergy in all the years they have been together. They haven’t kissed anyone except each other in a long time as far as she knows, and Daisy can’t help wondering if she is measuring up to their expectations.

Jemma’s hands go to her hips, grounding her to the couch and to Earth, and Daisy is glad for the leverage that gives her to arch her back and rub it against Jemma’s front, making her gasp. Blindly, she places the palm of her hand wide on Jemma’s stomach, and lets her eyes flutter closed to properly enjoy the trail of kisses Fitz is leaving down her neck.

She feels so warm and so tight and so _ loved _ in between them that is a little overwhelming. She doesn’t want to kill the mood, and yet.

“Please, tell me that this is not going to be a one time thing.” Her voice is vulnerable, but well, that is exactly the way she feels, and they deserve her authenticity.

Immediately, Jemma’s arms tighten their hold on her, and Daisy can feel the look they are exchanging over their shoulder, so charged that is palpable. Fitz looks at her with serious but honest eyes, and Daisy shivers under the weight of Jemma’s cheek on her shoulder.

“We said that you are a part of this marriage, Daisy.” He follows the line of her upper lip with the pad of a finger, and Daisy has not felt this connected to a romantic partner in her life before, much less to two. “And we meant it.”

She inhales, exhales, Jemma’s shampoo and Fitz’s aftershave making her nostrils expand and feel like home.

  
“Well, I feel the same way.”        

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



End file.
